The Italian's Love-Child. Emma Darcy
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safe world with Luc.
‘I’ll let you go and tend to Matt now,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘Be with you soon.’
‘Yes.’ Bye for now.’
‘Love you.’
‘Me, too.’
She did love him. But she was beginning to realise how much Luc’s commitment to her was costing him and how blind she had been to that, only seeing that his family circle could hurt her. And Matt. It still could, but if she believed enough in Luc’s love for her, wasn’t there room for giving some kind of reconciliation a trial?
Watching his mother with Matt this afternoon…it had made her wish her own mother was still alive, taking pleasure in the grandchild she’d only known as a baby. Death was something no one could control—a final parting from which there was no turning back. Flavia Peretti had experienced that with Roberto. But the separation from Luc could be bridged if the prejudice against a non-Italian bride was set aside, and the pride of Luc and his father did not remain an ongoing battle-ground.
Big ifs.
And Skye knew she was right at the centre of them. Moving from her own stance on Luc’s family was absolutely essential if a truce was to be called. The big question was… and her heart quailed at facing it…how was she going to cope if she was continually made to feel not good enough for Luc? Good intentions could be very quickly undermined.
She had a bad night.
The next day wasn’t much better, her tired mind still fretting over what should be done. At least every hour that dragged by was one hour less of being alone with her dilemma. It was a huge relief when Luc finally arrived home and wrapped her in his strong embrace, making her feel warm and secure in his love.
Matt, of course, was still full of his new Nonna over dinner, questioning Luc incessantly about his life as a child, learning that he’d had a younger brother and immediately deciding he’d like a brother, too. Which made Luc smile and cock a quizzical eyebrow at Skye.
‘Maybe in another year or two, Matt,’ she said, knowing Luc wanted at least one more child—one whose life he would be aware of right from the beginning, no missing out on anything. ‘But your Daddy and I can’t guarantee a brother. It might be a sister instead,’ she cautioned.
‘Oh!’ He thought about it. ‘That’s all right, Mummy. I like girls, too.’
And no doubt they liked him, Skye thought. He was like Luc in lots of ways. Which made her feel all the more guilty about depriving Flavia Peretti of her grandchild, as well as her Luciano. She was glad when Matt’s bedtime came and he was finally tucked in for the night, giving her and Luc the privacy needed to discuss the situation.
Luc wanted to sweep her off to bed but her need to talk first was paramount in Skye’s mind, so she insisted they sit over coffee at the kitchen table. Which was not to his liking. His dark frown and suspicious eyes drove an instant flutter of apprehension through her heart.
‘You’re letting my mother’s visit affect what we’d normally do,’ he growled.
She looked at him in eloquent appeal. ‘I can’t discount it, Luc. Please?’
She made coffee and they sat, but the aggressive energy pouring from him made it difficult for Skye to know where to start. She felt Luc was going to pounce on anything she said and tear it apart. Did the harmony in their relationship depend on having no contact with his family? Or was this all her fault for making such a huge issue of it? It was impossible to forget the scars of the past, but weren’t she and Luc strong enough together now to rise above them?
‘My own mother is gone, Luc,’ she began nervously. ‘On my side there’s no family, and no closely connected community forming an extension of family, either. There’s only me and Matt.’
‘And me,’ Luc shot at her grimly.
‘I’m not doubting that, Luc,’ she hastily assured him.
‘You’re drawing lines, Skye.’
It forced her to choose her words more carefully. ‘I just meant…you still have…other people who care about you.’
‘Not so I’ve noticed,’ he snapped, his face growing harder, his eyes angry.
‘Because I haven’t given you the chance to be with them,’ she rushed out. ‘I’ve been a coward, not facing up to your life, wanting to be safe in my own little world.’
‘You have every right to want to feel safe,’ he fiercely argued. ‘As for chances, my father could have chosen any amount of chances to invite us into his home.’
Skye took a deep breath. ‘Well, there might be a chance now.’
‘According to my mother?’ he flashed at her with deep scepticism. ‘Along with her request to postpone our wedding? Can’t you see she’s dangling out an acceptance of you to stop what she and my father want to stop?’
‘They can’t stop us from getting married if we don’t let them, Luc. I trust you on that. Can’t you trust me?’
‘It’s taken me so long to convince you it’s right for us…’
‘And it is. I know it is. But I’m now feeling wrong about the way we’re doing it.’
His jaw clenched. Skye sensed he was about to erupt from his chair, but the moment of shimmering violence passed. ‘Why?’ he bit out.
She shook her head over the realisation that her fears had driven Luc to an extreme stand, and he was not prepared to back down from it. He hadn’t spelled out that in marrying her without his parents’ blessing, he’d make himself an exile, but she had blindly accepted that sacrifice from him, accepted taking him away from others, too. She’d actually been intensely relieved that she didn’t have to worry about them any more. Selfish relief.
‘Your mother loves you, Luc,’ she said quietly.
His head jerked aside as though he didn’t want to be hit by that. He grimaced and turned his gaze back to her, eyes blazing with resolution. ‘I won’t have you hurt again, Skye. In all but law you’re my wife now. My first allegiance is to you.’
She took another deep breath and said, ‘Your parents didn’t know how deeply you felt about me. They made a mistake.’
‘That’s putting it kindly,’ he mocked, still not giving an inch.
‘I’m not saying this to test you, Luc. I’ve thought about nothing else since your mother came.’ She tried a smile to lighten the tension. ‘As you just said, I’m your wife now in everything but the legality. Does it really matter if we postpone going to a registry office until after Christmas?’
His responding smile carried a load of irony. ‘Did my mother promise you a big Italian wedding if we did?’
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘Did she say if you loved me, you’d ensure that I come home for Christmas Day for the sake of family feeling?’
She sighed, regretting the huge barriers she had built. ‘It wasn’t like that, Luc. Your mother was very distressed at the rift that has developed. Can’t you just accept that without colouring it as more deception?’
‘And if it is deception?’ he bored in.
‘We’ll know soon enough, won’t we? Christmas is only five weeks away.’
‘Don’t count on my mother’s peace-plan going through. I doubt my father knows about it. And I will not be going to Bellevue Hill again without his personal invitation.’
This was said with so much harsh pride, it made Skye wonder how much Luc himself had contributed to the rift. Her reaction to the deception with the photos and her acute awareness of being considered an undesirable in the Peretti family circle had certainly played its part. Given Luc’s